Voices
by PUPPYSPANK
Summary: I miss the voices in my head. If you have seen them, please tell them they are late for tea. Vincentcentric Implied VincentxChaos  Mild onesided CidxVincent


**Story:**_ "Voices"_

**Author:**_ Takemi-Chan_

**Setting:**_Dirge of Cerberus, one month after the final battle, Town of Kalm_

**Rating:**_ M for theme's and later chapters_

**Pairings:** _implications of VincentxChaos & CidxVin_

**Beta: **_Currently none._

**Disclaimer: **_FFVII belongs to Tetsuya Nomura / Suqare enix, used with appoligies_

**Authors Note:**_ Story is set up into three parts ( "Connected" , "Sinners", and "Oblivion" ) and it's mostly Vincent Centric thought is is slightly implied Vincentx His demons, as well as very very mild onesided CidxVin. Enjoy!_

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_I miss the voices in my head. If you have seen them, please tell them they are late for tea._

It had been maybe a month, he decided. A full month since it had ended. Both Omega and Chaos had returned to life stream; bringing with them the rest of his demons. He should be happy shouldn't he? Free of the torment, the never-ending torture; No longer being forced to relive every aching moment of his past; Never-more carrying the burdens of his sins, his mistakes. But it was so quiet so eerily quiet. And he missed them.

Yes, sitting where he was now he missed them. Every waking hour of the day, very sleepless night he missed them. His demons had become the only 'people' he'd ever come to know, to trust. Though they'd been cruel to him, harsh on him, he had to admit he'd grown attached to them. It was comforting somehow, to always have someone to talk to, someone to confide in. Maybe it was just easier than real people. Yes, real people, real human beings, could lie. Humanity was made of natural born liars, weak generations of kin who only knew to lie and deceive. But his demons, no, they couldn't deceive him, couldn't betray him, even if they wanted to. They where part of him, and he was part of them. No one else but him could hear them, see them, but deep in the recesses of his mind they where there, always; always there for him, no matter what happened. Perhaps it was because they had to be; bound to his soul by the chains of life. Where he went they went, what he felt they felt, when he suffered they suffered too, even if not nearly as much. Vincent hadn't realized it before, but he had come to rely on his demons, much more than he had ever relied on his friends. When he stopped and thought about it, he would much rather have his demons than his friends. His demon's remained the same, almost four years had gone by since he had first been awoken from his coffin, and yet they had never changed always been the same. His friends on the other hand, changed like the seasons, never sure of what the wanted, constantly changing themselves. It made him un-comfortable; he didn't take to change very well. Change had got him shot and killed; change had gotten him locked in a coffin for thirty years; change had seen to the end of his father's life. Yet through thirty four years, the demons remained the same, in his dreams, in his thoughts they where always their, always asking of him the same things, always tempting him with the same urges. It was oddly comforting, but it was easier for him. It was so much simpler to cling to the things that stayed the same, and let go of the things that decided to change.

He shivered where he stood, outside in the cold in the little peasant town of 'Kalm'. Not far from a nearby inn, his companions where probably waiting for him inside, still celebrating their win over omega. He whished he could celebrate too, as he gazed overhead into the clear night sky, littered with stars, and the glow of the half moon. His tattered cape blew gently in the soft wind coming from the east, blowing papers and bits of dust against his bronzed shoes. He blinked sultry red eye's as he brushed a stray red hair from his eye's, pursing his lips slightly. He shouldn't miss his demons. They'd only been a group of menaces, echoing in constant strife in the back of his mind. He remembered constantly fighting them, struggling to control his emotions, forcing himself to ignore them, day after day. His resolve was always weakening then, the more he tried to fight the urges Chaos presented him, the more he began to wonder why he tried so hard to resist. It would be so easy to kill them all, as Chaos had said many a time. After all there blood was around him willingly, being needlessly pumped through by their hearts, through their veins. Ah their hearts… How Chaos had often tempted him into nearly skewering several of his companions, namely Cid who the demon seemed to despise greatly. It had given him sustenance, seeing Vincent's allies suffer; his precious friends, the one's he vowed to protect, struggle and wither away, like roses left to burn in the sun, throughout the sands of time.

Sustenance… It had been a hungry emotion. It had taken a while for Vincent to get used to the feeling. A constant hunger in his belly, and never-ending parch in his throat. It wasn't his fault; that need for sustenance, and that constant bloodlust, had been brought along with Chaos, and extra burden placed upon his shoulders. Vincent sighed, turning to walk slowly across the town's quiet dirt road, just behind the inn hands at his sides, a light glow being cast upon him from an amber lamp-post. Tree's to his left and hushed buildings to his right. The town was quiet, astonishingly quiet. He realized that normally this silence would've been interrupted by Chaos' cruel voice cackling at him, making a mockery of him where he stood.

He sat down against the cold and beaten brick wall, dirt caking its side's. He glanced again at the night sky, his claw scratching roughly against the rock's and pebbles imbedded in the dirt. He shivered again, glancing at his body, the scars on his chest hidden by his black clothing, his face hidden by the red cape always worn tightly around his shoulders. Vincent wasn't sure of what he was going to do with himself. He hated to admit it, but he was lonely; Chaos' though he'd been nothing but a tormentor, an inhuman ungodly bully, had always been there for him, always listening to him, even if he didn't want to. Somehow, they were connected, held together by the strings of life, or at least they had been. Chaos was in the life stream now, separated from his host, perhaps being purified by the souls of the ancients. Even though Chaos had never been there for comfort, he had always listened and had always filled the silences. Vincent realized that alone he didn't stand a chance, that Chaos had been the only thing he'd ever had going for him; a sharp voice in the back of his head, keeping him sane no matter how cruel he had to be.

He looked at himself; his body slumped against the back wall of the inn, moping to himself. He realized that if Chaos where still with him, he'd be laughing at him, mocking him for being so weak. Vincent almost gave a small chuckle at the thought. But he couldn't, couldn't laugh, couldn't give way to anything that expressed cheeriness; because no matter how he tried he couldn't be happy anymore. His throat constricted slightly as he forced a small laugh, thinking of how Chaos would tease him if he could see him in the sorry state he was in. He was suffering, and he could feel it, and he realized it _hurt._ It hurt much more than anything else had. And though he absolutely hated to admit it to himself, though he would never admit it aloud. He realized…

_"I miss you…"_

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_Please review for part two. I'm looking for a beta! And please note that the piece at the begging ("i miss the voices in my head. If you see them tell them they are late for tea") is a quote from the Cheshire Cat (Alice and Wonderland)._


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